Service Call: Erin Everheart and Christian Wilde

Erin’s sitting at the bar, nursing the last of her drink, when a flyer catches her eye. She can’t help herself. The bartender spills what little he knows, and that scrap of paper stays stuck in her head all night. Morning comes and she picks up the phone. No hesitation. Christian answers, voice thick, already curious. They set the time. When he shows, he moves fast—no small talk, just the collar around her throat and the leash snapping into place. She follows on all fours, led like a pet through her own doorway. Halfway up the stairs he stops. Erin’s knees hit the steps. She takes his cock down her throat while the leash tugs at her neck, spit running down her chin. He drags her the rest of the way up, throws her on the bed spread-eagle, and starts working the flogger across her pale skin. Every stripe lights her up. Next she’s bent over the mattress, arms yanked across to the far side, ass high and helpless. He keeps the leather snapping until her cheeks are red and hot, then lines up and sinks that fat dick straight into her ass. No warm-up. He pounds her open, deeper each thrust, until her whole body shakes. She comes hard, again and again, while he uses her like a rag. By the end he’s tossing her wherever he wants—mouth, cunt, ass—flipping her over, pulling her hair, slamming back inside. When he’s finished he paints her face and tits, thick ropes of cum streaking across flushed skin.